


Out of the Blue

by bloominsummer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: Stiles gets hurt one too many times and Derek just couldn't handle this one.“You’re going to stop coming to any of the pack activities besides training sessions,” Derek declares.





	Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. No copyright infringement is intended.

Stiles sees red everywhere. The sticky liquid covering his hands, all over his shirt. His ears are buzzing, probably from the explosive arrows Allison kept shooting at their latest villain, the — well, they’re not sure yet of what it is. Their best guess is a wolf, but with its eyes glowing violet in the deep on the nights, nobody actually knows what it is.

He inspects himself for cuts, feels one on his upper lip. Blood is flowing freely right into his mouth.

 _So that’s what the metallic taste is all about,_ he thinks.

He realises he can’t hear anything but his own thoughts when he sees Scott mouthing words at him. Except his facial features are all tense, which means he’s shouting, or more likely screaming, but Stiles can’t hear a word he’s saying.

He tries to process it, what Scott’s trying to convey, when somebody—Isaac, hauls him up off his ass and pushes at him. He gets it. Can’t stay down, have to run. He follows along, stumbling through broken branches, thankful that Isaac is slowing down his werewolf pace so that Stiles can keep up with him.

They finally get to the outskirt of the woods, to his Jeep. Isaac’s waving his hand in front on him, making hand gestures. He gets it, again. One point for his intellect. He reaches into his pockets to get his keys and throws it at Isaac, who catches it and points at the passenger side of the door. As soon as Stiles gets himself into the Jeep, the adrenaline rush fades away and his vision blurs.

He wakes up in Derek's living room, to Lydia’s face hovering over him like some weird 3D projection. He blinks a few times to refocus his sight.

“…okay?” she asks him.

“How have been out?” he tries. He notices that his words don’t come out the way he intended them.

“How.. long have I been out?” he mentally gives himself a pat on the back for his success.

“..days,” Lydia replies.

_Huh, weird. Are my ears still non-functional?_

He holds up his fingers. Lydia stares at him worriedly before holding up one finger.

He taps his ears.

Lydia nods, rumbles around her bag before pulling out a notepad and a pen.

_‘Allison shot arrow right next to your ear. Can’t hear anything?’_

“Myself,” he croaks out.

_‘That’s probably your brain tricking you into thinking you can hear because it’s your thoughts.’_

The door bursts open then. Even with his hearing compromised, he knows the screaming of the hinges being forced to move way too fast. Lydia’s head snaps up and she moves away from her place on the sofa.

Derek and Scott comes into his view, seemingly in a heated argument with each other. Stiles is not quite sure what about though. Isn’t a day a little long of a delay before having post-fight arguments? He sees Scott clutching with the hem of his sweater, which can only mean one thing: he feels guilty about something. After 10 years being best friends, it’s easy for Stiles to spot his tell.

“…die!” Derek says. Or maybe shouts, Stiles really can’t tell the difference.

“..okay! Wants.. be there!” Scott replies with identical fervour.

Lydia comes in between them and puts a hand on Scott’s chest. Which is weird, because usually Derek’s the one blowing up irrationally and needs to be restrained. On any other day, Lydia’s hand would be on Derek’s chest, not Scott’s.

“Let’s go,” Lydia tells Scott.

“Hey! I can hear,” he exclaims. His ears hurt a little as they adjust to all the sounds flooding back.

He smiles brightly at Scott who instead of returning his smile, gives him an apologetic look and bolts out the door, letting himself be dragged out by Lydia.

“Of course you choose the exact 5 minutes I’m out of the room to wake up,” Derek scoffs.

Stiles turns to look at him and notices everything. Derek’s shirt is still the one he wore yesterday for their trip to the woods, although his rigid posture refrained him from giving any personal hygiene comments. There is blood under his fingernails and the bags under his eyes are the colour of charcoal. He slumps down on the chair across the room and puts his head between his hands.

Before Stiles can come up with an appropriate response, Derek’s lift up his head and shoots him his signature death glare. Stiles would have run for his life then if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that look too many times.

“You’re going to stop coming to any of the pack activities besides training sessions,” Derek declares.

“What? Why?” he sputters.

“Because you’re human,” he replies, matter-of-fact.

“Allison’s human!”

“She can also shoot her arrows accurately from half a mile away on a windy day. When you can do the same, we’ll renegotiate,” Derek stands up and makes his way to the door. Stiles knows that if he lets him leave, the argument’s done and he’s not going to have any say it in ever again.

He tries to stand up but flails and falls on his ass. “That’s unfair!”

Derek rushes over to his side, trips over the coffee table a little, “Are you listening to yourself or are you still partially deaf?”

“I got hurt and you’re treating me like crap, what is wrong with you?”

The alpha walks away from Stiles, his back to him. It pains Stiles a little because he knows Derek his intentionally distancing himself from him.

He turns around suddenly. “Exactly! You were _hurt_!”

“Yeah, _I_ was hurt,” he repeats, “Why are you the one having problems with that?”

There’s a beat before Derek answers, “Because I love you!”

The admission doesn’t register instantly with Stiles. “I knew you wouldn’t have any—“ he stops himself. “Wait, what?”

Derek leans against the wall and talks to the ceiling. “If you die, I’m going to lose my mind. I mean, you were only out for 18 hours and I was ready to rip Scott’s heart out from his ribcage for letting you tag along one too many times.”

Stiles stays silent for a minute, trying to take in all the new information he’s just learned over the last couple of minutes that might or might not be giving him a massive headache. After he manages to keep his heartbeat under control and his breathing stabilised, he takes a deep breath and starts again.

“What did you say, Derek?” he asks softly.

Derek looks at him, and Stiles swears the pain in his eyes is the realest thing he’s seen ever since he became aware of the existence of werewolves. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I have to,” he runs his finger through his hair, nervous. “The arrow exploded right next to my ear. I could be hearing things that you’re not saying.”

Derek sighs.

“I love you,” he breathes out. “And I can’t have you in the middle of the crossfire every time there’s a new evil lurking out there. I can’t—“ his breath hitches, “lose you. Ever.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” Derek raises his eyebrows at him, ludicrous.

“No,” he laughs a little, “but we can talk about it after you kiss all my booboos away.”

“What?”

“You just told me you love me. My body hurts all over, but I would gladly drag it across the room to get to you. Although I prefer you come here, so we can make out a little before I go back to sleep.”

Derek’s frowning at him now and Stiles wants nothing but to kiss the frown off of him. He raises his eyebrows at Derek challengingly, beckons him to move and sit on the sofa with him. Derek does.

Stiles takes his hands in his own and caresses the cuts that are still there. He looks up at Derek and knows that he’s doing it on purpose, holding back on healing himself because he thinks he deserves to feel the pain, like he’s done nothing but bad things since he started to lead the pack. He raises Derek’s hands to his mouth and peppers them with kisses. Derek’s hand makes its way to his face, cradling it. He closes his eyes and settles in the warmth, not knowing why he hadn’t realised sooner that what they have is more than what they have been willing to admit.

When he opens his eyes again, Derek’s staring intensely at him and he doesn’t know who makes the first move, but they meet in the middle at it’s all Stiles never knew he needed but he does. As they separate, Derek kisses the cut on his upper lip.

“Go to sleep, now,” he orders, pushing at Stiles’ shoulders softly.

“Yes, captain,” he leans back down. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

Derek confirms it with a grunt. “Not going anywhere.”

“Lov’ you too, sourwolf,” he mumbles before finally drifting off.


End file.
